


and turn your sail toward home

by laricina



Series: the ocean is holding all the kings [2]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laricina/pseuds/laricina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their quest to restore the Black Pearl to its former state, Jack and Gibbs come across the Flying Dutchman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and turn your sail toward home

**Author's Note:**

> Post – _On Stranger Tides_ , almost directly after the end of the movie. Can be stand-alone, but is a companion piece to “sea bound, and aimless at best” (the first part in the series) and may make more sense after reading it.
> 
> Written and posted elsewhere in 2011; posting here for archival purposes.

If Jack Sparrow _(Captain)_ was the sort of man to contemplate fate and karma and life coming full circle, he would be quite perplexed indeed at the frequency of which his various excursions resulted in him rather annoyingly sticking close to the shore of the Caribbean in a hardly sea-worthy dingy, sometimes alone, sometimes with Joshamee Gibbs.

Jack wasn’t really of the philosophical sort, however. He was more the type to count his blessings in terms of still having his life, so when he and Gibbs came upon an unused (at the moment) boat, slightly larger than the ones he was accustomed to pilfering, he counted himself rather lucky indeed, clutching the bottle holding the _Black Pearl_ to his chest more preciously than a bottle of rum.

Weeks passed uneventfully in their dingy. They both did what was in their power to avoid Barbossa, Gibbs concerned himself with remembering just where he knew a man with a goat, and Jack concerned himself with worrying how they were going to transport a goat in a dingy and with keeping the _Pearl_ in his possession. Life was just about at the status quo, for him.

His fate would change, as it always did, with the sea. One morning, Jack woke up feeling the hint of a storm in his being. As they had ventured a bit out from any island or mainland, Jack and Gibbs spent most of their time trying to find one. By mid-afternoon, just as they suspected the squall would hit, they’d found a small island in which they docked, pulled their dingy up and behind a large tree, and hunkered down behind a hill, Jack crouching over the _Pearl_ and Gibbs keeping his eye on the horizon.

It was not long before a small ship came into their view, obviously blown terribly off-course by the storm. The barely sea-worthy ship was rocking and rolling heavily in the winds. Sails were torn and it was not long before men were thrown overboard, likely before they could register what was happening.

Unsure if the frightened men were attempting to reach shore or simply hold their ground, Jack and Gibbs continued to watch from a distance for an uncertain amount of time until the storm finally calmed and the ship steadily slowed to an eerie still, fitting for the silence emitting from the remainder of their surroundings.

When they deemed it safe, they set back off in the dingy to reach the ship, looking for survivors and supplies. Admittedly, Jack was hoping to rescue the little ship from its demise in the absence of any. Just as they reached the ship, his vision was blinded by a flash of green.

~

There were certain risks that presented themselves hand-in-hand with life on the sea. In fact, Jack knew very well the risks that presented themselves with life on _land_ as well; he preferred risking death at sea for many reasons. Sailors and pirates alike knew nature’s fury better than landlubbers. The possibility of dying in a rough storm was so common it was almost forgotten, expected rather than feared.

There was little unrest within the sailors killed by this particular squall. There was sadness, there was regret, but little bitterness. Will’s job was a fairly easy one considering, and Jack and Gibbs observed him quietly yet somewhat awkwardly from their dingy.

Jack noted with both disgust and a small amount of awe just how well Will counterattacked the foreboding aura of the _Dutchman_. He was firm, commanding, confident as a captain should be, but calm. He treated the sailors with sympathy.

The pirate ran his hand over the bottle holding the _Pearl_ as he fought viciously against the twinge in his gut. He looked anywhere but the scar that ran down Will’s chest. Ferrying souls into the world of the dead wasn’t a job anyone should have to be good at.

He didn’t miss the look on Will’s face when he had finished; eyes closed and his face tight, a hand clenching the ship. In a moment, however, he had plastered a more pleasant look on his face and Jack, in a similar manner, brightened his own face.

“Jack,” Will acknowledged with the hint of a smile, “Mr. Gibbs.”

Tipping his hat in greeting, Jack moved to stand in the dingy. “Captain Turner! Fancy runnin’ ‘nto you, aye? Thought you had decided to take an extended vacation in Davy Jones’ locker, I did.” Jack was cut off when the dingy rocked, and then he exclaimed, “Hey! Guess we can’t call it that anymore.” He wrinkled his nose. “’Will Turner’s Locker’ doesn’t hold the same ring.”

“Sounds better than ‘Jack Sparrow’s Locker,’” Gibbs laughed, and then turned to Will. “You look good, Will. Well, that is,” he gestured at him, “For an undead man.”

“Thank you, Gibbs,” Will paused, “I think.”

“Say William,” Jack drawled, making a point to poke his foot at the dingy’s rotting planks, “Much as I’ve been looking forward to a shared bottle of rum and a good catch-up, I would prefer to do so on a more worthy boat, if you please.”

“You know what, Jack, I know what happened to the Pearl, so I’m not even going to harass you.”

With an appreciative smile despite his briefly darkened mood, Jack moved to throw a rope up to Will before he was stopped by a wave of his hand. “Don’t bother, Jack.”

Will threw two long ropes over the side of the _Dutchman_ and waited patiently for Jack and Gibbs to board. With a touch to an earring, the _Dutchman_ began gracefully sliding towards them on Will’s command. “I’ll anchor up,” he explained unnecessarily, “I’m assuming you both have some time.”

“All the time in the world, mate,” Jack grinned, “As long as I have me drink.” He tilted his head back towards a small barrel in the dingy.

“You would lose your own head if it wasn’t attached to your spine, but you always know where the rum is,” Will mumbled good-naturedly.

Gibbs, however, was one step ahead of them, and had lowered himself back down into the dingy to retrieve it and had returned with both the rum and the sack full of ships by the time the conversation was over.

“So tell me,” Jack had uncorked a previously unopened bottle and ceremoniously plopped himself down on the deck. He wiggled around on the floor, trying to find a comfortable spot, and seemed to find none. “ _Pearl_ never felt this…unkindly,” he grumbled darkly, and then, “Did you, in fact, take an extended vacation?”

Will’s eyes flashed in response. “Just what kind of man do you take me for?”

“Jus’ checkin’!” The pirate defended, then took another drink. “Wonder what ‘appened to anger our Calypso, then.”

“How do you know it wasn’t Will who pissed off Calypso?” Gibbs asked. Will had privately wondered the same.

“’Cause ‘e’s not all…” Jack wiggled his fingers. “Tentacle-y.”

“I just couldn’t transition, Jack,” Will explained, “I don’t know what it was. Something about the _Dutchman_ … she has her own thoughts, just like the _Pearl_ does. She tells me things, sometimes, about the ship, about pirate history. Calypso will speak to me through her. But she’s keeping me rather in the dark regarding this. I thought maybe the quest to find the Fountain… but who can say?”

“Ah,” Jack toyed with the trinkets on his fingers, “Calypso was always a fickle bitch.”

The sea rolled under them, and Jack grinned, raising his bottle as if to toast her. “Ta, darlin’.”

“Jack!” Bootstrap’s shout was easily heard from the other ship. “I’m glad to see that you are just as mad as ever.”

“Or madder,” Jack pointed out honestly, “Which is a good thing, see, ‘cause you aren’t looking quite so – “ another wiggle of the fingers, “tentacle-y anymore, and now I can be mad enough for the both of us.”

Bootstrap laughed out loud and Will, despite himself, grinned. 

“God help me,” Will chuckled, moving to sit next to the pirate, “I think I’ve actually missed you.”

“’Course ye have, luv,” he offered the bottle to Will, “’m Captain Jack Sparrow.”

“And don’t you forget it!” Gibbs roared, walking to sit closer to them with Bootstrap in tow. “Why don’t you tell Will the story of how I was almost hung under your name!”

“You’re still bitter ‘bout that? You need more rum and sun in your face, mate. It all worked out, didn’t it?”

Sighing in resignation, Gibbs glanced back at the Dutchman. “What does your crew do after… sendings, Captain Turner?”

Will shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever they like. This was an easy job. If I had someone joining my crew, Dad would be showing them around. Seeing as I don’t, the crew can carry on as they like. No one’s going to bother that ship.”

“No, I suppose not,” Jack conceded, “Seeing as you escaped Blackbeard’s massacre and all.”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Will whispered, “But I think I know how to restore the _Pearl_.”

Jack pulled the aforementioned ship-in-a-bottle out from his chest, placing it carefully between his legs. “Do ye now?” He sounded hopeful.

“Sure. Blackbeard came aboard my ship not long ago.”

Gibbs and Jack both choked on their drinks.

“Well? You shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I suppose not, but, Jesus.” Gibbs choked. “What was he like?”

“A pirate. Acted like he had rights to everyone and everything on the sea.”

Now onboard the ship, Bootstrap chastised, “Leave it to you to get mixed up with him, Jack.”

“We almost didn’t!” Jack felt the need to defend himself and wasn’t quite sure why. “We just wanted to be in the same place at the same time, is all.”

“But you still _did_ get mixed up with him,” Bootstrap persisted, “And he didn’t seem too happy about it, either.”

“Didn’t please me much either, mate,” Jack said. “Besides that, he’s a coward.”

“Even in death he was a coward,” Bootstrap agreed, “Wanted to see Calypso.”

Jack grinned at this. “She won’t be showin’ him any sympathy.” Clearly done with the conversation, he tilted his head toward Will. “What do you have to say about this mate?” He tilted the bottle towards Will as well.

Changing the subject but finally accepting the offer of the drink, Will began, “Listen, my days pass by the same, escorting the dead and all that. Tell me what you’ve been up to, Jack.”

“Pillagin’, plunderin’, samplin’ the Caribbean’s variety of rum, impersonating the English,” Jack explained proudly, making a great show of shaking the beads in his hair. “Everythin’ and nothin’ the same, luv, ‘til we met up with Blackbeard. I suppose that no-good scoundrel told you the story.”

“Most of it,” Will replied, “though not everything. What became of the Fountain, anyway?”

“Spanish destroyed it.”

Will blinked. “That’s… it?”

“That’s life,” Jack replied as if it were obvious, “Least Blackbeard got what was coming to ‘im.”

“ _Speaking_ of which,” Will prodded, “Who is this girl Blackbeard spoke of?”

“Which one?”

“ _Jack_. The girl you switched the chalices to save.”

“Oh, you mean that stubborn, lying, cheating scoundrel who impersonated me? Poorly? I didn’t want to save her, I just wanted Blackbeard dead.”

“Oh, _sure_ ,” Gibbs laughed before Will had the chance to, “Don’t be lyin’ to the Turners, Jack.”

“Wait, wait,” Bootstrap shouted suddenly, “Angelica? Don’t tell me-”

“Yes,” Jack cut off harshly, “It was her.”

“She’s Blackbeard’s _daughter_?”

Jack made a point of chugging the rest of his bottle.

“Huh.” Bootstrap was almost at a loss for words. “Angelica was a girl Jack _had_ – repeatedly, get it? Never stuck to one woman for too long, though there were a few exceptions. Found her in a Spanish convent, he did.”

Will spit out his mouthful of rum. “JACK!”

“Pirate.”

Bootstrap continued, “And she turned out to be – well I’ll be damned.”

“Ye already are, mate. Now,” Jack’s hands flew erratically through the air until Gibbs took the hint and handed him a second bottle of rum, “Back to business, aye? What did that scoundrel tell you about my ship, Will?”

“Barbossa. You need Blackbeard’s sword to reverse the magic on the Pearl.”

Jack chugged. Again. “Bloody wonderful.”

“I don’t suppose Barbossa is going to reverse the magic without expecting something in return.”

“That’s not a problem,” Gibbs said brightly, shaking the bag of bottles again. “He can have one of these!”

Will regarded Jack, “Is Barbossa going to put up a fight for the _Pearl_ specifically though?”

Jack shrugged. “Barbossa respects the _Pearl_ , I will give him that. When life gets too easy for ‘im, he gets restless though, savvy? Long as ‘e’s got the _Revenge_ , it won’t break his heart to leave me with my ship.”

Will was weary. “You sound confident of that, Jack, but I’m not so sure.”

“Well, I am, suppose it’s a good thing I’m the one doing the restorin’.”

Not one to refute Jack’s logic, at least in this case, Will nodded and sipped his bottle of rum. The four sat in silence for a good few moments, before Bootstrap let out a sigh and strapped his bottle to his hip.

“Gibbs,” Bootstrap began, “Why don’t you come aboard the _Dutchman_ for a short bit? Got something I want you to see."

Gibbs asked Will tentatively, “Can I?”

“I don’t see why not,” Will shrugged, “Davy Jones forced the living onto the ship quite frequently.”

After Gibbs followed Bootstrap onto the _Dutchman_ , Will and Jack sat in silence again, though not uncomfortably, for a good many moments before Jack finally spoke.

“Listen, Will. Seems to me,” Jack began, his eyes flitting anxiously around the ship, “I got your pretty little ‘ead into this right mess, and didn’t do much to,” he gestured erratically at Will, “get you out of it.”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Will sighed. “It’s not like I did you any favors either, Jack. We all had our own agenda.”

Though Jack agreed, he didn’t respond to that.

“We all had our own agenda.” Will repeated. “Part of yours was to stab the heart, gain your immortality, wasn’t it? You can’t tell me that “Jack Sparrow, Captain of the Flying Dutchman” didn’t have a proper ring to you.”

“The ship’s a beauty, but she isn’t the _Pearl_.”

“ _That_ was your reason?” Will asked incredulously, clearly not fooled. “When it comes to sacrifices, I know this is one you would have been willing to make, Jack. As for the _Pearl_ , you could have had a fleet.”

“Too much work.”

“You were never able to fool me, you remember that right?”

“Such riddles, Will Turner,” Jack spat out, “ _That_ you get from our old tentacle-y bastard.”

Will snorted. “You claim to be on this…continuous quest for immortality, and yet you return all of the gold pieces to their rightful place, help me stab the heart of Davy Jones to give me more time with Elizabeth, and then you find the Fountain of Youth, and save another instead of yourself?”

“Seems to me, if there have insofar been _three_ methods for becoming the Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow, there are more, savvy?”

Raising his eyebrows, Will asked, “And the past few times haven’t been the opportune moment, is that it?”

“Now you’re catching on, whelp.”

“You want to know what I think?”

Jack huffed, “I’m just surprised you think at all.”

“I think you’re getting soft in your old age, Jack.”

Jack sputtered. “Soft? _Soft?_ And OLD?! You wound me, William. William, William. There is no such thing as an old pirate, you know, and as far as _soft_ -”

“He was soft far before he was old,” Gibbs cut in, not able to hear the conversation but having heard Jack’s outburst, and teased, “Why, just the other day he admitted to me-”

“SHUT IT!” Jack roared, then, quieter, “No respect.”

“I think you ought to be showing me the respect, Captain Sparrow,” Will pressed on, “After all, I’ve got a better ship.”

“So you do. At the moment.”

“I think you just admitted I can one-up you.”

“Well not _permanently._ ”

“While I admit your methods were unorthodox as always, you were trying to do a good thing. I won’t fault you for that, Jack. I’m not angry.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not angry at _you_. Not anymore. Not any more angry than I’m sure you were at me.”

Jack smiled; it did not reach his eyes. “Way I remember it, we traded each other in more than once; we’re square.”

“Except we’re _not_ ,” Will insisted, “We may be square on the enemies bit, yet we are not on the mates bit.”

“And just how are you suggesting we rectify that situation, aye?”

Will wasn’t about to admit to Jack that he had blackmailed Blackbeard into telling him how to restore the _Pearl._ “If Barbossa gives you hell when you attempt to use that sword, I’ll give him hell.”

The sea rolled suddenly and swiftly under them before Jack had the chance to respond. A coolness in the breeze separate from the air swept through them.

“I think that’s my cue,” Will explained, his gaze flickering between the _Dutchman_ and the sky. He turned back to Jack. “Listen, have you…” he paused briefly, “have you heard from Elizabeth?”

Will let out a breath. He’d been dying to ask _someone_.

Gently shaking his head, the pirate replied, “Sorry, mate, I have not. I’ve been avoiding those parts as of late, as it were.”

“No, it’s alright. I mean, I understand, it’s not as though she…” he broke off, staring at the waves, before reaching into his jacket to pull out a carefully folded envelope. “Do you… if you see her, can you give her this?”

After examining the envelope as he would plunder, Jack replied, “Might be a while.”

“It will be sooner than if she waits for me.”

Jack nodded and took the envelope from Will. “’Course. I’ll see she gets it. I won’t even read it.”

A snort. “Yeah, right.”

There was a pause in conversation as they stared each other down, both unsure of what to say. In addition to the ever-changing status of their relationship, Jack hated goodbyes, and Will was sure this wasn’t one.

“Thank you, Jack.” Will gently squeezed his forearm. “Take care of yourself.”

Jack nodded. “Same to you, mate. The next time I see you the only changes I want to see to you are grey hairs.”

“Very funny,” Will rolled his eyes, “I would recommend you keep yourself from pissing off more Pirate Lords for the time being, but I reckon you’ve pissed them all off by now.”

“Perhaps,” Jack agreed, “But I’ll take that as a challenge.”

~

Jack has kept more promises than he has broken lately. Whether to himself or others, he doesn’t make them lightly. Briefly, he believes it was brilliant foresight on his part not to make more promises to _himself_ , because he can’t quite seem to keep those – the _Pearl_ always seems to be slipping out of his reach; the precious few friends that he has are scattered across the Caribbean at any one moment.

The most important promises, though, those he’s kept. The wind is in his hair, the swaying of the water is still under his feet. He takes the days one at a time. If, every day, each day at a time, he finds himself with his ship, a bottle of rum and good company, that’s an added, glorious bonus.

A pirate’s life, indeed.


End file.
